


Twenty strokes

by Poutini



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tender smut, Will write porn for poutine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:07:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27584533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poutini/pseuds/Poutini
Summary: This is my 20th Schitt's Creek fic!Therefore, it is TWENTY-centric, consisting of TWENTY SQUARED words.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 17
Kudos: 179





	Twenty strokes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DesignatedGrape](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesignatedGrape/gifts).



> Posted as a gift to Designated Grape, who published the [ first chapter of her first long fic ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27573848/chapters/67448702)today, and I have to tell you, it is SO WELL WRITTEN, and I am SO DANG PROUD of how she stepped out of her comfort zone and just knocked it out of the park. We've connected on the tumblr, and it is a pleasure to have gotten to know her, so RUN, don't walk, and read it! After you read this little PWP, that is.

Patrick grabs David’s hand as it dips below the waistband of his boxer briefs. 

“State your terms,” he says firmly.

David purses his lips. “Fine. I get you off in twenty strokes or less, we watch  _ The Lake House _ . It takes more, we watch  _ Dodgeball. _ ”

Patrick’s grip loosens. “Deal.”

With that, Patrick slides his underwear down, letting it pool with his jeans around his ankles.

Unencumbered, David strokes him  _ one-two-three-four-five _ times, holding Patrick’s erection steady, swiping gently on the underside of his frenulum where it’s  _ so so sensitive _ .

Patrick groans, his hips buck, but he can tell his orgasm is nowhere near. “You’ve just wasted 25% David, do you want to renegotiate?”

David’s hold on Patrick’s cock tightens. “Not a chance,” he whispers, ghosting his lips on Patrick’s earlobe, pressing a soft kiss to the constellation of freckles he’s long since called his own. 

He keeps his lips within nibbling distance as he continues pulling on Patrick’s erection. 

_Six._ _Seven_. _Eight_. _Nine._

“Remember when I first rimmed you, honey?”

Patrick lets out a groan. 

“Mmmm! So, that’s a yes. Remember how my tongue dipped inside you? How I pinned you down as you writhed on the couch in the backroom of  _ our store _ ?”

“ _Nnnnnnnngggghh!_ No fair, David,” Patrick whines.

_ Ten _ .

“Oh, and then remember how you watched as I fingered myself in front of you?”

_ Eleven. Twelve. _

“But that doesn’t compare to the first time you fucked me in front of a mirror.”

Patrick’s breaths are coming in pants. He can feel the tension coil in his abdomen. Only eight more. He’s trying so hard to hang on. 

David kisses the soft, sensitive patch of skin behind Patrick’s ear. His voice is barely a whisper. “Remember, honey? How you couldn’t tear your eyes away from  _ this _ sliding  _ in _ and  _ out  _ and  _ in  _ and  _ out _ ?”

With that, strokes  _ thirteen and fourteen _ .

“Mmmmm, and when you were done, how we watched your come drip out of me?”

_ Fifteen. Sixteen. _

Patrick groans. Defeat looms large.

“ _So_ messy, honey. _So sloppy_.”

_ Seventeen. Eighteen. _

“Like my mouth.”

_ Nineteen _ . 

And with that, with just one to spare, Patrick is coming over David’s fist. His hips bucking forward with each contraction of pleasure. 

David watches him, enchanted. He gentles him through the aftershocks, tucking his softening cock back into his underwear. 

“So, Dodgeball?” David confirms, with a raised eyebrow.

“But you won?” 

“Oh, honey. Everyday, I win.”

  
  
  
  



End file.
